Mrs Hudson Drabbles
by Lady Sally
Summary: Just some little bits about our Dear Mrs. Hudson. This one was for a LJ kink promt - but it's very domestically fluffy. I may add more, she's just so much fun to play with.
1. Chapter 1

We find our dear Martha Hudson in her beloved kitchen. It is pristine and perfect in every way, and gives a feeling of welcome to all who are invited into it. This is where she takes care of her business, which, at this time in her life, is taking care of her lodgers - in every way possible she can. Right now she is busily putting away the breakfast dishes while seeing to the soup on the stove cooking for lunch and checking the large roast that's in the oven for supper. Chocolate biscuits are cooling in the pie window for tea. She pretends she doesn't notice when a couple of small dirty hands sneak 2 or 3 from the porch, she just smiles as she hears the back gate slam shut behind them. Although the word "multi-task" hasn't be coined yet, she is already a master at it.

As she's checking the bread rising on the counter she hears a small noise above her and stops for a moment. The noises get a little louder, a moaning and scuffle of feet in the sitting room above her. She checks the bread and hums some more until a crash is heard and she stops and frowns. "That will be the new vase." she says and sighs, thinking that at least she had learned to buy cheap replicas for the room and kept the fine china down here. The crash was followed by silence....then muffled giggles...then the moaning again. As she got out a tea tray and began to set things on it a thump like bodies hitting the floor was heard and the moans got louder. She looked at the teas and decided on Earl Gray. It was a bit early for it, but it sounded like her boys were working up an appetite and warm biscuits were always welcome. She could make more for this afternoon she thought and smiled again.

She stopped and listened for a minute, and then decided it was time to put the pot on to boil. Just as she did there was a banging at the front door. She turned in the direction and glared at whoever it was disturbing her happy domestic peace before noon. She made her way to the the door and unlocked it, having made a habit long ago of keeping it locked, it just seemed safer considering the kind of business her lodgers got up to. Inspector Lestrade was on the other side, looking harried as usual and already trying to push his way in. "Mrs. Hudson." he said and took off his hat. He managed to get in the door but she still blocked the stairs. "Mr. Lestrade!" she said, louder than necessary, "I have told you before that I keep a strict schedule in my household and mornings between breakfast and luncheon are reserved for the Doctor and Mr. Holmes' scientific experiments and research. They are NOT to be disturbed." For such a small woman, even her commanding tone was enough to make the Inspector take a step back. "I'm sorry, Mum, but it is a bit of an emergency." Lestrade said, almost mumbling while he fingered his hat. He looked like a chastised school boy who'd been caught looking up the girls' skirts on the playground. She stared him down a few moments longer until she heard the door open at the top of the stairs.

"It's alright, Mrs. Hudson, I think he's learned his lesson - you can let him up." Dr. Watson called down the stairs. She turned up to him with a beaming smile, "If you're sure, Doctor?" He nodded and she stepped to the side, letting Lestrade pass by. "Thank you, mum" he mumbled and pressed to the wall to keep away from her.

She went back to the kitchen to finish preparing the tea and just as it was finished she heard the front door shut as Lestrade left. "Hmpf! Such manners. If it were Clarky he would at least poked his head in to say goodbye and snatch a biscuit." she said and removed one of the cups from the tray.

She took the loaded tray up the stairs and knocked, bring it in and setting it out on the table by the window only after she heard it was alright to enter. "Tea so early, Nanny? What have you hidden in it this time?" Holmes asked and didn't look up from the papers Lestrade had brought him. She set a cup next to him and said, "Just some glue, Mr. Holmes. I thought you could use it to repair my vase." She made no mention of the deep red his face had begun to turn. She turned and handed Doctor Watson his cup as well and he cast his eyes down from hers. "Tsk..tsk.., boys will be boys. Just make sure the larger pieces are scooped up and I'll sweep the rest up later." she said and patted his cheek. She reached in her pocket and pulled out an envelope and turned back to Holmes. "Your Opera tickets arrived for this evening, Mr. Holmes." He held out his hand, she gave them to Watson who grinned and put them in his inner coat pocket. Then she turned back to Holmes and leaned over him, pulling his ear forward a bit to look behind it. "Ahh!!" he cried, dropping the papers and looked up at her like she'd gone mad. "It's opening night, I'll draw you a bath - I'll not have you disgracing the good Doctor or my household going out with dirt behind your ears." He rubbed his ear and for a moment, it looked like he was about to pout, but instead he picked the papers back up and hid behind them.

"If you'll make sure your evening clothes are laid out, Doctor, I'll see that their pressed." she said as she made her way to the door. Just before she closed it behind her she turned back in and said, "And Doctor?" "Yes, my dear Mrs. Hudson?" Watson smiled at her. "Make sure he wears something with a high collar. You're not being nearly as careful with those little love bites as you used to." she said and smiled at them warmly. Watson just stared at the door in shock, his teacup half way to his lips. The papers Holmes was holding all fell out of his hands to the floor. "Luncheon will be ready soon, _**my**_ boys." she said and shut the door quietly.


	2. Chapter 2

Just another bit about our Dear Martha. I don't own her or Holmes or Watson, I do however own the large iron frying pan that makes an appearance in this story.

It was the thunder that woke her first, partially, the lightening coming through the window woke her the rest of the way. She frowned, and then got up, pulling on her tartan robe and slipping her feet into her slippers. Getting up, she quietly made her way out of her bedroom through the door that led to the kitchen and went to the back door without needing to light a lamp. She knew the way by heart, of course, having been in this house most of her life. Opening the back door to look onto the enclosed porch of her row house she looked over the site before her and sighed. Eight of them, no, nine tonight and one dog. She stepped went back in and pulled a pile of blankets from an old trunk she kept near the door. Stepping carefully back out into the porch she proceeded to cover the small sleeping forms that lay every which way on the sparse furniture and the floor, seeking protection from the rain and a safe place to sleep for the night. She knew in the morning they would be gone before she could offer them breakfast. They were children and homeless, but they still had their pride. She decided as she came back in that tomorrow would be a baking day, and she knew word would spread quickly when plates of pasties would be left unattended on the porch for whoever happened to need them.

She shut the door behind her and was about to head to her room again when she heard the creak of the 12th stair. It was not a tread she recognized and she reached instinctively to the stove and took up her heavy iron frying pan. She looked back to the porch door and had a moment of indecision. The children were sleeping out there, but no one knew but her, while her lodgers were upstairs and that was known to whomever was climbing her stair. She crept out the door and through the parlor, which gave a view of her bedroom door and the stairway. Her door was still shut, and there was a figure at the top of the stair, just entering the sitting room. It was not a figure she recognized. She waited a moment, then she heard the sounds of someone rustling through papers and the opening of drawers. She frowned, "I'll bet whomever it is will be making more of a mess of things up there for me." she thought as she went to the stairs, glaring even more when she saw the mud tracked on them. She made it up them quickly and without a sound, again, years in her house she knew exactly where to step.

Peering in the sitting room she saw the stout figure of a man going through her lodger's books and papers, looking for who knows what and tossing things to the floor when it wasn't what he wanted. The sound of the rain and thunder were doing a good job of hiding the noise of it all. She looked and saw that Mr. Holmes' door was shut, as was the one going to his room from the hallway. Glancing up the stairs she saw Dr. Watson's door was open, though. Looking back into the sitting room she saw the figure start making towards Holmes' door. She covered her mouth quickly when she saw the glint of a knife light up in the lightening. Her moment of fear turned to anger very quickly, and her mothering instinct kicked in as she stepped through the door and came up behind him. He barely had time to turn before his face met with the backside of the frying pan. She didn't bother to wait to see if that's all it took before she smacked him with it again on the back of the head, only hastening his fall to the floor. She looked down and kicked the knife away and it scattered across the room. Then for good measure she tapped him again, just not as hard this time. "That's for mudding my stairway." she said and stepped over him.

She opened the door to Holmes' room and stepped inside. As soon as the door opened Holmes sat up and another figure in the bed disappeared onto the floor on the other side with a thump. "It's only me, Dr. Watson, you can get up, dear." Mrs. Hudson said and lit the lamp. Holmes just stared at her with a shocked look on his face, Watson carefully peered over the edge of the bed, clutching the coverlet to him. "Um..Nanny?" was all Holmes could seem to say. Normally if she needed to wake him she knocked, but now here she was, in her nightclothes, standing next to his bed with a large frying pan in her hands.

"You'll need to get up, both of you. We've have a visitor, he's in the sitting room, dears." she said and went back out the door. Holmes and Watson turned and looked at each other, not knowing what to say. Watson rubbed his eyes and looked again, no, he wasn't dreaming. When they had composed themselves and came into the sitting room she was stoking the fire and saying something about it being a dreadful night. Watson looked and saw no one sitting in the room and was about to ask about the supposed visitor when Holmes nudged him and said, "Well, this is unexpected." He looked to where he was looking at saw the man on the floor. Watson dropped to him quickly and checked him over. "He's breathing, but not through is nose and I doubt he will be for some time. That's quite the egg on the head, too." he said and looked up at Mrs. Hudson and then to the frying pan she had picked back up. "What? He had a knife and was heading straight for Mr. Holmes' room. Would you rather I'd just gone back to bed?" she said. Watson couldn't help but smile at her. She stepped over the body and said, "Besides, he'd already made a muddy mess of my stairs, I don't need to be cleaning blood up tomorrow besides. I have other matters to attend to, you know, this house doesn't care for itself." Then she turned and went to go back downstairs. "You can whistle for the bobbie yourself, I've got to get up early and do some baking. Good night, my boys." she said and went down the stairs.

"You know how I say I'll never get your depths, Watson?" Holmes said and watched her go with a smirk. "Yes, Holmes?'' Watson said and stood up again. "I have the feeling our Dear Nanny's run even deeper." Holmes said and raised an eyebrow.


	3. Chapter 3

Mrs. Hudson glanced at the clock again and then back to the telegram on the table. It was from Dr. Watson and had arrived that morning, telling her that the case was concluded and they would be back as soon as possible by the next train. But as far away as they had gone, it was now 8 in the evening. They should be arriving home anytime now, if the trains had been running right. And she knew what to expect when they did arrive. Both of them would be looking like the dead and at least one of them would have fresh stitches or a serious wound of some sort. They will not have bathed properly, Watson will be fussing with his mustache because he left his snips behind. No matter what inn or home they stayed at, it was not her cooking, so it was not good enough for them. Watson will be apologetic and thank her over and over for little things. Holmes will be grumpy and not make any understandable conversation other than grunts and grumbles. They likely will not have slept, either and will want to go straight to bed. "Well, not tonight, my boys...not tonight." she said and smiled, placing some things on the the tray to bring upstairs.

Just as she was coming out of their sitting room with the empty tray the door opened and in fell her lodgers, exactly as she imagined them to be. She sighed and pulled a basket out of the upstairs linen closet and handed it to Watson as he dragged himself up the stairs, his fingers stroking down his mustache. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Hudson, I hope you didn't wait up for us. Please don't bother with anything." he said and smiled at her, looking guilty. "Dirties in there, please, and any mending, too." she said and gave him a look that she expected it to be full. He managed a bit more of a smile and headed for the sitting room. She took his arm and swung him around, steering him towards the bathroom instead. "Baths, both of you, now. I'll not have you climbing into my clean sheets like that." Holmes let out a grunt from where he was leaning against the wall, half asleep, but then shuffled, grumbling more as he followed Watson's lead to the bathroom, dropping pieces of clothing in his wake. The door closed and she picked up the clothes, emptying the pockets as she went. Revolver, caked with mud, darbys, broken. She leaned her ear against the door when she got to it. The grumbles had turned into sighs as she heard the sounds of bodies entering the hot water she'd had waiting. She smiled and nodded, then went downstairs.

Holmes was coming out of the bathroom just as she was leaving the sitting room again. She reached up and brushed the wet curls out of his eyes and he flinched like a schoolboy. "Your dinner is waiting, boys." she said with a little smile. Watson looked out of the bathroom, his mustache snips in his hand. "Oh, Mrs. Hudson, thank you but we're really very tired. " he said, hoping not to upset her. She fixed him with a look and then smiled again, "I said, your dinner is waiting." Holmes actually tried to back up a step, only to run into Watson. "I know you haven't been caring for yourselves, dears, and you'll sleep much better on full stomachs besides." she said. "Yes, you're absolutely right, Mrs. Hudson. Come Watson, we don't want it to get cold." Holmes said and elbowed his flatmate. Watson nodded and dropped the snips in the sink, quickly following Holmes into the sitting room.

As soon as they opened the door, though, they both stopped at what was before them. The room had been cleaned, well, as much as was allowed with Holmes' filing system. There were vases here and there with roses in them. Gladstone was laying in front of the fire with a bow around his neck, and it looked like he'd had a bath as well. The table had been set with Mrs. Hudson's finest china, candles glowing on it giving off a soft light to the room. Laid out on it was a feast to rival anything served at the Royal, besides being all their favorites. Watson stepped past Holmes, who was still looking at everything and then turning back to see if he was in the right room, obviously confused. Watson looked down at the cake on the side table and smiled, gesturing to Holmes to come and look.

"Happy Anniversary" was written across the decadent chocolate cake it in red icing in Mrs. Hudson's own handwriting.

Holmes went over and looked at it, then at Watson, taking his hand. He looked up to where Mrs. Hudson was standing in the half closed door watching them. "Nanny...I don't know quite what to say." he said and then smiled at her. She smiled back and said, "There are fresh sheets on Mr. Holmes bed as well and I took the liberty of moving your pillow down to his room, Dr. Watson. Good night, my boys." She winked and then shut the door. "How did she know? I didn't know..." Holmes said and looked guilty. "I think she's known longer than we have, old boy." Watson replied, pulling Holmes into his arms. He reached over and ran a finger through the frosting, then let Holmes lick it off. "We should get her a gift, or something." Holmes said. "Yes, something nice, something worthy of our old girl." Watson said and led Holmes over to the table. "Something worthy of her? Yes, perhaps a small country or something." Holmes said and grinned, knowing whatever it was, it would never be enough to show their gratitude.


End file.
